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4 T ji ■w lit Advice to the Bathing Skirts To Be Shorter Pity the Poor Rich Girl What the Newly V 7ed Should Know What Happened to a Girl Lovelorn According to Very Latest Edict Some Practical Suggestions by | a Practical Business Woman, j privacy that went with hirerer houses and more space, that sense of privacy Igitow must be recognized and respected By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. NO. |}EAR MISS FAIRFAX: I-/ ing with a man of 27 for the past three months. He says he loves me dearly, and has given me ?*©me nice presents. The last time we were together we had a quarrel, but he wants to call again. Do you think it would be proper for me to accept his com pany ? Every time we are to gether he insists on an early • marriage. Would it be all right for me to marry him when my parents object? BELLE. You foolish little girl, don’t you know that this man is not a good man ? If he were he would not coax a girl of 1T> to marry him against her par ents’ wishes. You must promise me that you will not see him again. PART FAULT; PART VIRTUE. P)EAR MIPS FAIRFAX: I am a girl of 16. employed as a .stenographer, and conse quently meet quite a number of people. Girl friends come out to see me, but my mother will not let me visit them, saying she knows nothing about them. Boys # also ask permission to call on ' me, but she says It is foolishness, and will not allow them to call; neither will she allow me tg go out with them. She is always telling me 1 have no friends, and I think it is partly her fault. Do you? LONESOME. She is right in refusing to let you go with girl3 and boys of whom she knows nothing, but does wrong, when you art- consequently lonelv, 1n twitting you with being friend less. Look on the better side of it. Be content with being friendless rather than have the wrong kind. For the Eyelashes. W HEN the eyelashes are thin and weaK, a simple treat- ment for strengthening them ts to moisten one of the fingers with lanoline, close the eyes and run the greased finger along the edges of the eyolids^ talcing caro that the grease does not get into the eyes themselves. Weak eyebrows may also be treated with lanoline. which should be rubbed gently into them. WOMAN’S ILLS DISAPPEARED Like Magic after taking Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound. NORTH BANGOR, N. T "As 1 have used Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vege. table Compound with great benefit 1 feel it my duty to write and tell you about it. 1 was ailing from female weakness and had headache and back ache nearly all the time 1 was later very month than I bould have been and so sick that 1 had to go to bed ‘ Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Com pound has made me well and these trou bles have disappeared like magic I have recommended the Compound to many women who have used 1t success fully.”—Mrs. James J. Stacy, R. F. D. No. 3, North Bangor, N. Y. Another Made Well. ANN ARBOR, Mich.—"Lydia E. Pink- ham's Vegetable Compound has done wonders for me. For years 1 suffered terribly with hemorrhages and had pains so intense that sometimes 1 would faint away. 1 had femnle weakness so bad that I had to doctor all the time and never found relief until I took your remedies to please my husband. I recommend your wonderful medicine to all sufferers as I think it is a blessing for all women ”—Mrs. L E. Wyckoff, 112 S. Ashley Ft., Ann Arbor. Mich. There need he no doubt about the ability of this grand old remedy, made from the routs and herbs of otir fields, to remedy woman's diseases. We possess volume** of proof of this fact, enough to convince the* most skeptical Why don’t you try it? \~JL TILL Atlanta girls follow the bathing suit fashion as laid down by \\ Chief of Police Woodruff, of Atlantic City? The chiefs latest edict says the skirts may come as low—or as high—as “a little above the knee.” The picture above gives an idea of the new bathing skirt, the dotted line indicating the length which obtained last summer. Atlanta young women who contemplate a visit to the seashore at Tybee or Cumberland or daily visits to the “beach” at Piedmont Park may be in terested in knowing the season's fashion as it applies to the famous bathing place—Atlantic City, which so often sets the pace. $1,000 Reward Offered for every ounce of adulteration or in ferior grade cof fee found in a sealed can of Max well House Blend. Ash yoar g rocer for it. Cheek-Neai Cof.ee Co. Nashville Houston Jscksoavillo H I’SB AND (very late home from the club)—H’m! I told ydu not to sit up for me. Wife (sweetly)- I didn’t. I g<»t up to see the sun rise. Bellows—Does your daughter play on the piano? Old Farmer (in tones of deep dis gust)—No, sir She works on it, pounds it, rakes it, scrapes it, Jumps on it, rolls over on it, but there's no play about it, sir. Wife (with Suffragist leanings) — I'ntil women get the vote it is Impos sible for them to get Justice in the courts. Husband—True: they *jet more mer cy than justice. “Why, the size of your Mil,” cried the angry patient to the doctor, "makees me boil all over!” "Ah!” said the eminent practitioner, calmly, “that will be $10 m »re for sterilizing your system." '‘Tommy, did you carry your books on the left side this morning?” de manded his mother “Yes'm.” “Very well. Now, don’t forget to carry them on the right side to-morrow morning.” “What difference does It make?’ gTowIed dad. “That shows what kind of a fathei you are,” snapped the mother. ”If the child didn’t alternate he might get curvature of the spine.” Gentleman I thought you were a blind beggar? Beggar That’s my lay. Gentleman Well, you are not blind now. Beggar (indignantly) Well, sir can’t a poor fellow take a day off occasion ally? Paterfamilias was lecturing his son on education. “Look here, my boy,” ho said. ”1 made my pile with only a Common school education.” "I dare say, dad,” replied the son, “but it takes a college education to know how to spend it.” Mr. Toogood—1 went under an oper ation yesterday. Mr. Markwell—You surprise me. Wan it very serious? Mr. Toogood- I had a growth removed from my head. Mr. Marked My goodness. And here you are about and looking well. Mr. Toogood Oh, don’t fret, old sport; I only had my hair cut. “We’ve tried a new' experiment in our village.” said the old gentleman with gold-rimmed spectacles. “We decided that as the tendency to vanity waa so great there ought to be some reward for people who were capable of standing aside and rejoicing in others’ success. So we organized a society for the pre sentation of modesty medals.” "How did it work?” asked the inter ested listener. “Badly. I’m sorry to say. As soon as a man won one of the medals, he would get so proud that wo had to take it away again.” By DOROTHY DIX. P ITT the poor rich girl who has nothing to do but to amuse her self doing things that bore her stiff. Her Jot Is. Indeed; a hard one. and much more deserving of our tears than many of the woes of the poor over which we tire accustomed to weep. There has recently been a great furor over a young heiress, moving in the most exalted circle of English society, who ran away from home because she wanted to make her own living. The cable was almost torn up by' the roots in an attempt to find out if the bold adventurer had come to America, de tectives were put upon her track, and finally she was found and returned to her gilded cagp, from which she will probably never have the courage to at tempt another flight. The young woman’s mother was so prostrated with horror that she took to her bed. ^ Society was shocked ami shrugged its shoulders, and tapped Its empty fore head with a significant intimation that there was something wrong with the poor girl’s mind, for her mania was to do something terrible and incomprehen sible She wanted to go to work. She want ed to be a doer, not a waster. She wanted to be of service to her fellow creatures, not a i*arasite on society. She wanted some real interest In life, not make believe ones. She wanted to be of some use in the world, not a mere « imberer of the ground. And she was rich! And she didn’t have to work. And she could have ev ery mortal thing that money can buy! And she wasn’t satisfied. No Wonder They Worry. No wonder her family wrung their hands when they thought of her, and tiled her peculiar, and wondered what on earth they would do with her, for likely as not she wouldn’t want to mar ry' a sapheaded youth with a few more millions, or even he willing to purchase a degenerate old roue with a title for a husband. But however her family and friends may feel over this poor girl’s futile j break for freedom, she has my hearty sympathy, for I can think of nothing else that human ingenuity has ever in- , vented that would be such a martyr- j dom of boredom as to have to live the ! life of what we call “a society woman,” and) that Is nothing but just one party after another. Unless you happened to be built that way'. There are, of course, women who find their highest happiness in buying clothes and who ask no more blissful occupation than to be continually taking off one dress ami hat, and putting on another dress and hat. To them it is a great and noble achievement to have been the first to wear a Robespierre collar, or to have had a skirt slit two inches high er In the knee than anybody else, and ; If they could choose their epitaph they i would have, "She Was a Swell Dresser and Was Burled in an Imported Shroud.” carved on their tombstones. The Auction Bridge Career. There are other women who cart make a career out of auction bridge, and who satisfy every need of their natures by i shlng from card table to card table. There are others who keep themselves from perishing of inanition by pushing everything to the extreme, by tur key trotting hader than anybody else, by flirtations that border on the rugged edse of scandal, by spending thousands of dollars for lap dogs, and rushing from place to place as fast as tain or gasoline will carry them. And there are others whose highest ambition is to know the people that don’t want to know r them, and who consider a laborious life of striving well spent if it lands them at last within the sacred precincts of the four hundred where all of your family affairs get into print. To care for all of these things enough to make them worth while you must be born that way, and that is what makes the tragedy of the rich girl whose brains were not cut on the bias and frilled in A® middle and hobbled with a blue rib bon tied about them. Dress doesn’t seem to her the most Important thing in the world. Nor does she feel that bridge is the chief end of life. To spend her time in dancing like a monkey on a stick seems to her noth ing less than a crime, and she abhors the fat dinners and luncheons that she eats to the accompaniment .of fat talk, with the same fatheads for perpetual company. She wearies of the artificial interests of those who are forever at their wits’ end to devise some new' way of killing e time. Hhe wants the real thrill of a real interest where you pit your own in telligence and skill against that of oth ers, and struggle for a real prize. She wants to do something that Is of some account, something that will upbuild. She wants work and to be a worker, not to be a dressed-up doll. And the thing she wants most she can’t have. Nobody will let her try, even, to find out what is in her, what strength she has. what are the measures of her talents. There Is nothing left for her but to go in for philanthropy, and she hates philanthropy. She wants io save herself, not others. And that’s why l say, pity the poor rich girl. Her only salvation Is to be born without any human qualities. That is if she Is to be happy. Criticism Widespread. There is a great deal of criticism of women who want to do things, and we hear much of the discontent among women. People say of such-and-such a woman that she is rich, that she’s got a fine house, and Jewels, and automo biles. and money enough to buy every thing she fancies: and they throw up their hands and say, In Heaven’s name, why isn’t she contented?” The answer is, because she’s got no worthy outlet for her energy and intel lect Very likely such a woman inherit ed from her father a talent for finance lhat would have made her a Wall Street magnate, or an executive ability that would nave put her in the Governor’s chair had she been a man; and to spend her f lme changing her clothes and going to pink teas no more fills the measure of these women's desires than it would their fatner’s The riel woman with brains and am bition ami a desire to he of use In the world is as forlorn a figure as exists in the world She is the victim of her wealth hs much as the poorest person is of his poverty, and her life is far waller tnan that of an> worker engaged in labor in which he is interested. Who Says Happy Marriage Is] Made Up of Little Sacrifices on Bofh Sides. By Margaret Hubbard Ayer ARTICLE II. { 11% f\ ATRIMONY Is a fine art. To M criticise it properly one must see it at a distance, then one can find the small flaws that sometimes spoil the masterpiece.” Mrs. Isabelle Kellie, a writer and a business woman, who has been suc cessful at many tilings, including matrimony, gives her ideas on this subject to the Newly Weds to-day. “A happy marriage is made up of little sacrifices on both sides. When these sacrifices are appreciated by the other half they turn in to mutual pleasures. "It takes a great deal of thought to make a fine art of matrimony. Few' young married people are willing to study each other’s needs and make allowances for each other. Married couples soon get into the habit of ordering each other about without saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ A woman will do many little services for a man if he voices his wants politely, and the same applies with equal truth to the other sex. "Generally one finds when a mar riage is not ideal that the couples are suffering from too much of each other’s society. In the days when most people lived in houses sur rounded by gardens the harassed hero or heroine could flee to the arbor and indulge in the luxury of soli tude. But there is no such thing as solitude in the modern fiat. And every human being feels the need of being alone and absolutely quiet at times. Does Not Harp on Trouble. "The girl who has been in business before her marriage realizes that her husband is fagged out when he comes home from his day’s work and, if she remembers her own experience, she knows that he can recuperate and get rested sooner if she will refrain fr>m pouring out the trials and tribula- MRS. ISABELLE KELLIE. tion-s of the day in his ears or adding to his nervous state by a weepy sym pathy. Many people are like animals when they are ill or very tired. They want to be left absolutely alone. “Every person is entitled to a room or den where they can retire and commune with their own souls when they need to do so, without fear of hurting the feeling;* of the rest of the family. The small apartments where all privacy is impossible have had their share in adding to modern ‘Nerves.’ “As modern living conditions make it impossible for people to get the and fostered and the odious familiar ity that inevitably breeds contempt must be guarded against. One can do it if one is forewarned and I think that problem lies in lie hands of the wife. Love Doesn’t Bar Politeness. "Love should not be a bar to polite- r.ess, and the fact that one is mar ried is no go-jd excuse for forget- ting- those small phrases that go with a request such as 'Do you mind 7’ or ‘Will you be kind enough?’ which one would never omit to a stranger and which smooth the rough places wonderfully. ! "There is such a thing as seeing too much of one another, and I have known of many couples who seem to forget that a man needs the compan ionship of other men just as a woman craves that of other women. “Once the honeymoon is over I think that a man should be allowed one night a week for his club or his friends, providing that the compan ions are of the right kind, of course. It Is a good thing for him to see oth er men than those he meets In busi ness. "Or. the other hand, I think later on when there are children and a woman has no nurse for them the fa ther could arrange to take charge o. them one evening a week and give the mother an absolute rest, ‘an even- ing off.' to go to the theater or see her friends and family. Of course, a man says tliat she has the entire day to herself, but a woman with small children has not a minute day or night to call her own, unless some one else takes the charge of the children. "There would be fewer bored mar ried couples if men and women culti vated a hobby. The hobby may be anything from suffrage to golf or yachting to suit the income and ta.-te of the individual, and husband and wife should not necessarily have the same hobby. "A diversity of interests of this kind stimulates the mind and helps con versation when the inevitable time comes where husband and wife tine that they have nothing new to talk about.” Married Life the Third Year B L MA 3S, H - E * BERT ’ JRt,E . R .- “O' II, where ARE the goos scis- sore7 *1 can't cut with these!” Helen threw down her sew ing and again searched through her work basket. “What in the Sam Hill do you want?” growled Warren, as she moved the read ing lamp, and raised up his papers to look on the table. “The scissors—we've only one pair that’ll cut. Oh, maybe Alice has taken them in her room.” Alice was writing—a voluminous let- “Then why don’t they let me alone? I’m eighteen—I’m old enough to know what I’m doing. Why shouldn't I write to Mr. Hampton—and see him, too, if I want to?” “Alice, I don't know anything about this man, but I do know that your mother wouldn’t object to your seeing him without some good reason.” “Oh, mother!” with an impatient shrug, “what does she know abortt Mr. Hampton? Just because he’s a little’ older than I! And he’s so much ter, from the pages of closely written more interesting and clever than any * of those Dayton boys I know. Why note paper. She looked up with a slight frown as Helen entered. “Have you the good scissors in here, Alice? I'm sorry to disturb you. Oh, yes, here they are,” seeing them on the dresser. Helen went back and took up her sewing, cutting evenly with the sharper scissors the material the duller pair had only “chewed.” “Dear,” as she thoughtfully threaded a needle,* “I don’t know what to think about all the letters Alice writes. Every day since she came she’s spent hours me writing .to some one.” “Well, what of it?” snapped War ren. “What business is it of ours how many letters she writes?” It's Only to One Person. "But it's only to one person! It isn't as if she were writing home or to a lot of school girls—she's writing to some man!” "How do you know it's a man?" "Why, no girl is going to write a twenty-page letter to another girl and write one every day! And, besides, there's a man's picture in her locket— I saw her looking at it yesterday. And somehow I feel it’s somebody her folks don't approve of or don’t know anything about." "Fiddlesticks! You're always imag- lging something. Why shouldn't a girl of eighteen write to a. man if she wants to?" . , “ir her mother knows it—yes. but I feel that Aunt Emma doesn't know this,” persisted Helen. "And that pic ture In her locket—it Isn't any one of her own age—it's a man of thirty- live or forty. And I don't like hie face, but It's Just the type that would attract a young girl." "Oh, cut it! Can’t you see I'm try ing to read?” Helen sewed on in silence, but in spite of Warren's lack of interest and apprehension, her thoughts kept revolv ing about the many page letter Alice was always writing, and the man'B face she had seen In the locket. Things Were Not Right. Intuitively she knew that thinks were not right, and the fact that Alice was here under their protection gave her a haunting sense of responsibility. The next day the noon delivery brought Helen a leter from Alice’s mother. Alice was shampooing her hair in the bathroom, and Helen called to her cheerily as she opened it. "Better hurry up! Here's a letter from your mother. But ae soon as she glanced at the letter, she realized It was one that Alice could not aee. “A letter from mamma?” asked Alice, coming in, shaking her wet hair over her towel-covered shoulders. ‘•But it’s only ft business letter,” fal tered Helen. "Nothing that would in terest you.” *T know what mother wrote you," ex citedly. "I know' why you won’t let me see that letter! She wrote about Mr. Hampton! She’s afraid I’m writing to him, or that I’ll see him—isn’t that it? Oh. you needn’t answer, I know it is." “Ye®, that's what she h($.s written about.” Helen looked at hOr steadily. "And don’t you think, Alico, that your people have had enough trouble without you causing them this exu* worry?” I’ve always said I couldn’t care for* a man who wasn’t a lot older. And the fact that he’s divorced—I don’t’ see what thabls got to do with it? Lots of people have been married un happily and it isn’t their fault.” "Divorced! Oh, Alice, he ISN'T divorced?” How Foolish. “Well is there anything disgrace ful about that? Aren’t lots of people divorced—nice people, too? He’s t<5Id how unhappy he was with his wife—how they were never con genial. Her tastes and interests were so different—they’d nothing in com mon. Oh, his life has been so sad! You can tell that by his eyes—the most wonderful dark eyes! And he's so distinguished looking, and has the most glorious voice!” Helen sank into a chair with a help less gasp of dismay. "I suppose it’s useless for me to try to tell you how foolish you are. Can’t you see fio man of any principle would talk to a young girl about his divorced wife? Why, everything you say about him shows”— “Cousin Helen, I happen to love him and I’m engaged to marry him, so you will please not say anything more!” “Then I must say this, Alice, that while you’re here, you are not to write him another letter. I can’t have the responsibility. Your moth er’s to send for you the first of the month, then she can handle the situ ation, but while you stay here—you must not write film again.” “And how are you going to keep me from writing him?” “If you won’t respect my request— I shall have to ask Warren to see that you do.” "Warren!” sniffed Alice. “Do you think I’m afraid of him? Because he's always lording it over you doesn’t mean he can bully everybody else. I don’t care if he IS my cousin. 1 think he’s about as selfish and overbearing as any one I ever met. And since you feel so free to say things against Mr. Hampton, just let me tell you that If I marry him he’ll be a lot kinder to me than Warren’s ever been to you!" And before Helen could recover from her amazed indignation Alice had flounced into her own room, slam med the door and locked it. D EAREST KITTEN: "I’ve been to the animal fair, the birds and the beast were there, the old baboon—" and that is about how a New York bad strikes ,me to-day. But I took it far more seriously last nig-ht. And, oh, how I wish I hadn’t! Honey, you may call some of the li tie danced ! a Savannah and .Macon and Augusta “slow,” and wish Joe could take you to a real function up ir Atlanta, but dances are happy youn i things, and balls are painful old ± ffairs, atm j know'. Besides all of which, the R oyc , t girls have not the costumes for balls, t I wore my little blue charmeuse, and felt in a blue funk when I beheld Glory’s glory. A Callot creation of pale pink and apple green chiffou all done with posies and pearls and priceless lace. He’d Call It Inadequate. Now, I don’t doubt t.iat a fashion editor would call this a most inade- ' quate description, but how you’d f come closer to describing the bewil- dering fluff that dwelt under Glory's skyline plush evening coat, I don't see. But I just about i erished when I beheld the utter Bph ndiferousnrss of all the ladies fair at the hall. And T. Albert Jo instone was ashamed of the little Hoosltr he had brought along in his patty. Of course, he was very polite and took a dance, but it was a turkey trot, and we had to sit it out. Neither he nor Glory introduced me to a soul, and if .Mr, English had not been perfectly fine about his little Cinderell t, partner, she must have been a hopeless wallflower. But he took many danc;s and signed all sorts of scriggles, so it really ap peared that I was quite a belle', and all his introductions wire so clever and flattering that hi fairly per suaded the men I was a personage instead of a mere little scribbler who may never amount to anything at all. And how I hate the turkey trot and the bunny hug and all the menagerie wriggles! Why, the inventors of those far-from-dances forgot all about the fact that darn Ing is an ex* pression of noetrv and rhythm! The turkey trot is very bad meter—lots ot "Xtra feet and so much swing that it drowns out all delicacy. And a mors go-as-you-please affaii you never saw—you follow the leader—who is your partner pro tem.—and Just when you’ve learned to wriggle and twist as, his fancy dictates you get a new dictator. Kitty, think of being glad and thankful and joyous when a dance concludes to end! Bu I was, and when T. A. and Glory decided to stay for the supper and eoti'lon, or what- ' ever they have at the! e Manhattan functions, I was happy to hear Mr, English declare that we were both working folk and would now proceed to buy us a little taxi and ride home in it. I was so tired and felt sue .! failure—badly dressed f nd unat ■ to mix. I just wanted to drop my he i down on mother's shoulder and 1 all out. And the cnly si oul was Mr. English’s—so 1 sat up very straight and bit my.liis and swal lowed ail the bitter thoughts that were trying to choke me. I ’Spose I’m Engaged. And then Mr. English suddenly said: "Poor little girl, you have had a stupid evening. It was like puUing one little anemone into a bunch of hothouse roses. Will the delicate little wildflower forgive me for tak-» Ing her out of her woods into that atmosphere?” And then—oh, Kitty, don’t ask me to explair how it ever could have happened—b it it did—Mr. English took me in his arms and kissed me. Am I engi ged to him? i suppose I am. and I don’t want to oe one bit, and I am so ashamed of some one I don’t know what to do, and her name is—Your loving * MADGE. ^lIHliiiTiiiniiinuiiniiii iiiiinTiilllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll Give the Kiddies Lots of Sweets Divinity Fudge Part 1.—3-4 cup Red Velva Syrup, 1 ox. chocolate, 1-2 cup water, 3 cup* sugar, 1 teaspoonful almond extract. Part 2.—1 cap sugar, 1-2 cup water, whites of 3 eggs, 1 cup chopped nut meats, 1 teaspoon- ful vanilla extract. Boil part one untii a little hardens in cold water. Boil part two (with out egg whiten, nutn and extract) until it forma a aoft hall when tried in cold water; remove frem atooe, pour gradually into atiffly beaten whiten of egqa. heating all the time. Then heat it into part one. Now beat the mixture for 20 minutes. add nutn and vanilla extract ana pour into buttered tine or platen■ Cool and cut in squares. The chocolate may be omitted. That old notion of sweets disagreeing with children is all wrong. The best and biggest physicians say, ‘‘Eat sweets, your body needs them.” They say that when your palate craves candy, satisfy the desire, because some hungry tissue requires it—but you ought to make the candy you give file kiddies yourself, and you ought to make it with in the red can, because it’s the very best syrup for candy-making that your money can buy. It gives a real tang to candy that you can’t get with any other syrup - and the very first can of Vojva you use will I rove that what we say about It la so. It'a just fine for cakes, too, and other baking. Yes, buy Velva In the clean, senitarj can. Buy it often and give the kiddles sweets. You can get Velva In the green cans, too, at your grocer's If you prefer It Send for the book of Velva Recipes. No charge. PENICK & FORD, Ltd. New Orleans, La.